Three horrible things I did as a child (and one cute one)

May 15th, 2010 § 1 comment

And I didn’t even realise it.

  • During my primary school years, every lunch time my friends and I would survey the surface of our football fields.  We were on the hunt for ant nests, and when we found one, we went at it with anything we could find; sticks, rocks, our aprons. We had seen pictures of queen ants in books and while we dug through antechamber after antechamber, we saw many eggs but never a queen. Poor buggers. I committed genocide before turning ten.
  • My cousin had a creek literally next door to her house and whenever the terrors (my siblings and I) was over, we’d find all kinds of plastic containers and fill them with the little tadpoles that were practically jumping over the brim of the little creek. We’d take them home and then wonder why they all died. My aptly named Fatty was the last one, the baby frog consumed its’ own body fat long enough to grow little legs but then called it quits. I cried and it had a royal funeral next to the strawberry patch. If only I had thought to feed it.
  • In Year 2, the clever thing to do was to go up to someone and say really fast “doyalickadickaday?“, if they hadn’t heard the joke before, they would normally say yes and you would give an exaggerated laugh and tell everyone within ear shot that so-and-so licks a dick a day. We knew what a penis was but thought it was gross – like touching a snail or making a fart joke. The complications and sick implications of the humour came out when I older, was looking back. It’s like biting your tongue and saying “I was born on a pirate ship.” Do it now! Tell me what it sounds like.
  • And on a lighter note, I was six when my family moved to Australia. Since we had just shipped everything we had to another country, there was one room that was stacked high with boxes. You heard of Picasso’s blue period? Well, this was the time in our family of the great Aladdin period. After coming home from school, my four year old sister, my three year old brother and six year old I would take turns to climb onto the highest box possible. We’d stand, holding a blanket length way (our magic carpet) then jump as if gliding through air, singing as loud as one can “A whole new worrrrld!” Once you landed on the mattress, you had to proclaim with absolute certainty how long you were in the air. Eight seconds was the record. Which is just impossible, but back then, it was magical.

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